


Failures of Diplomacy

by Oparu



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, The fluffiest fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leia's had a good day, Han's has been terrible, but maybe this will help. (Leia tells Han she's pregnant).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Failures of Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely the fluffiest thing I could think of as a scenario, so I went with it. For theprincessleia on tumblr.

Leia dodges as the hyperspanner clunks down the hallway. She ducks left as a bolt follows the unlucky hyperspanner. Han’s unintelligible grumbling carries down the corridor in the _Falcon_ and she follows it around, her arms folded across her chest. 

He’s up to his armpits in the deck, digging for something while he swears, cursing technicians, paperwork, requisition forms, Admirals, all other ranks, politicians, senators. 

While she stands there, listening to his tirade, he mentions just about everyone and everything they’ve ever come into contact with, except her. She’s apparently someone in his good graces, probably because she hasn’t seen him since that morning, and, they were both late, and flushed, practically glowing, so the morning was good. 

Whatever happened in the meantime was a struggle. She leans against the wall, studying his hands when they emerge to throw something else. They’re easy enough to dodge, and she catches one bolt in the air with the Force, smirking at it, because today, she can’t stop smiling. 

She heard most of it from Chewie, and she would have been equally irate if she’d been in the meeting with Han, but hers were dull codification of citizenship rulings for the stateless refugees, which includes her, so it was one of the more tolerable meetings. His on the other hand was a nasty difference of opinion between the leaders of the Core Worlds, who were oppressed by mostly untouched by the Empire, and the worlds who bore the brunt of labor camps, slavery and occupation. 

Han hasn’t learned to be diplomatic. His heart’s too close to the surface, and she loves that about him. He’s easy to read, and pretty damn heroic for someone who refuses to be called a hero. She lets a hand drop to her belly, her first concession to the news young doctor Kalonia had to give her this morning. Their baby has a father who defends those who need it, tirelessly. 

For a moment, she imagines the trunk full of spare parts and tools that he’s so angry with is a toy box, and he’s looking for something for their baby. That’s what pregnant is, what it means. Someday, she’ll be able to watch him holding their baby, listen to him hum in joy instead of curse. He’ll probably curse a little too, having a baby’s not the easiest thing in the galaxy and it’s much sooner than they thought. Leia swallows a laugh because they’ve been off their prophylactics a grand total of sixty-seven days, and she’s pregnant. 

“Kriffing Core Worlders and their sense of entitlement. I’ll show them what it means to be ‘impacted by war’,” Han continues to mutter as she kneels beside him and his favorite crate of spare things. 

“Han-”

“Do you know what they said about the Wookiees?” he asks, pulling his head out just long enough for her to see the grease smudged on his cheek. 

“I don’t know,” she says, failing to hide her smile. 

“They said--” and he ducks back in, cursing more violent than he did since the last time she pulled her cold feet up too high in bed. 

“And then-!” he emerges again, still ranting and stares at her. “What?”

“What?”

He turns, dropping to the deck, defeated, confused and intrigued all at once. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m sorry.”

He rubs his hand against his face, making more of a mess. “I’m talking about the richest planets in the kriffing galaxy refusing to help rebuild the worlds most ravaged by the damn Empire and you’re smiling.”

She looks down, then back at him and she can’t keep her smile away. She’s too happy. Joy bubbles inside of her as if it’s the Force itself, demanding to be  and set free. “It’s not related.”

“It better not be related,” he snaps back, but she can’t help it. She can’t. “I used to think you were pretty diplomatic, but you’re failing now, princess.”

“I’m pregnant.” 

“Here I am, trying to defend the defenceless and you’re sitting here, grinning at me like--” and his mouth stops making sounds. His lips come together, then part. Han stutters, but still, no real sound. 

“I thought I might be anemic, because I’ve been so tired, and I went to medical.’

“Yeah, you said you were-” he stops, swallows, reaches for her and halts again because his hands are near-black with grime. Leia takes his hand anyway, squeezing it to give him strength. “Leia.”

“I didn’t know you were such a good shot,” she teases, letting herself beam at him. “Kalonia said I’m- we’re- fifty days, give or take. Two hundred and fifteen to go.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, hot shot, I’m serious.”

He sputters. “I threw things at you.”

She lifts his dirty hand and kisses it. “You didn’t know I was there.” 

“You should’ve--”

“I thought she’d tell me I had a virus, or I wasn’t eating enough, or give me another lecture about how I don’t take care of myself-”

“Which you don’t.”

Stroking his face, she nods. “I’ll do better.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his eyebrows high with surprise. “You’re going to do so much better.”

She laughs and tugs him closer. Usually she’s the one who ends up in his lap, but this time he’s between her legs, her arms wrapped tight around his chest. She leans on his back, listening to his heart race. His hands squeeze her arms, holding her as if life depended on it. 

“I thought trying would take longer,” he says, toying with her fingers. “It’s supposed to take time. Like a month or two, not what-”

“Two weeks?” She guesses, then holds him tighter. “I can’t believe we--”

He taps the back of her hand, then turns, finding her eyes. “You’ve done so many unbelievable things, and this surprises you?”

“This is good,” Leia tries to explain. “We wanted this.”

“Yeah.” His smile breaks across his face like a jump to hyperspace. “You okay?”

“I was so excited not to be anemic that I wasn’t even listening when she said I was pregnant,” she says, reaching for his chin. “I was halfway out the door and she brought me back and made me sit down.”

“I like her.”

“Me too.”

They stare stupidly at each other, lovestruck, dumbstruck, utterly consumed by their own joy. 

“We did it,” he whispers. Han kisses her, and ignites her ridiculous joy into something unfathomable. 

“We did the easy part,” she reminds him, still beaming. Her face almost hurts from smiling, but she can’t stop. Won’t. 

He drops his attention to her belly, stroking her shirt. There’s nothing to see, won’t be for months, but they know. She kisses his forehead, then draws him up so she can kiss him fully, deeply. 

“Pregnant,” he repeats against her cheek. “Wow.”

“Good wow?”

“Yeah,’ he smirks. “I think it’s good.” 


End file.
